I see her when she walks in alone. I'd seen her other places in the past, she didn't seem to favor one bar over the other, one restaurant over the other, I'd even seen her in a movie. She always wears green. Different dresses to be true, but always green, and the dresses always matched her eyes.
I've never seen her on any occasion when she was not wearing green, with sparkling, tantalizing green eyes, and, of course, with that lustrous auburn hair falling down her back, constantly being pushed back out of her eyes. She tucks it, now, behind her ear as I watch her enter. She reminds me of a photo I once saw from the early 1940's.
I've seen many men, all more handsome and better dressed than I, approach her, but that gave me a laugh because she pays them no attention. Not their looks, or dress, or anything else. She always comes in alone, and she always leaves alone.
She never, of course, notices me. Never knows I am ever there. I'm a pretty unnoticeable guy, so I'm not surprised that she doesn't see me. No one sees me well because I blend right in.
My divorce is final tonight. My boss and his wife, Adam and Eve have taken me out to dinner to celebrate. We'd been talking about my divorce and, of course, Eve's design business when out of the corner of my eye I see her, the hottest of women. I watch, enraptured, as the lady in green comes in. Her hair swishes as she turns to speak to the maitre-d'. I think I see her gaze brush mine but I know this can't be. My eyes are paying tricks on me. I can't stand to look at her and at the same time I can't take my eyes off of her. Fascinatingly beautiful without that prettiness that we normally associate with the girl next door. Her nose is a little too long, her facial features too lean, her mouth too bold. No. She does not fit the word pretty at all, yet she is beautiful in a way I can only fathom in my decadent, wanting mind. I really don't understand my own mind at all. I know I can't attract her. I wouldn't know what to say or how to behave. Why is my heart beating so erratically?
She is seated at a table near us and before long I can tell that she is once again eating alone. Now that she's that close to me, I can see that her dress is very loose at the top. The waiter brings her food. A whole roasted chicken with rice and vegetables loading the plate around the chicken and a glass of tea. As soon as the waiter leaves, she bends over the chicken and my god, you can see her tits. I'm lost for a moment, just admiring those tipped tits, but couldn't stay on them for long because then she starts tearing the chicken into smaller pieces with her hands while stuffing some vegetables in her mouth and chewing. What an eater. I watch without pretence while she takes a piece of chicken in her fingers and sucks it into her mouth. My God. I watch as she eats with her fingers and then licks them in her lips. I've never seen anything like this. It's like sex. Never seen anyone misbehave like this in public. Amazing. She licks her fingers again and drinks some tea. It is one of the most vulgar and tantalizing things I've ever witnessed. I jerk my mind back to my hosts and what they have to say so they will not suspect my vulgar thoughts. They appear to not to notice the woman in green.
Adam, Eve and I finish our dinners and Adam picks up the tab. I leave the tip. All very civilized.
As we walk out into the chill Chicago night air, I wrap my coat tightly around my lean body. We stroll to their car where we say our amicable goodbyes. They get in their automobile and I lift my freezing hand in a goodbye wave as they pull away, leaving me in their exhaust. I stand there a long moment before I return to the restaurant, and from there into its lounge where I find a vacant stool at the nearly empty bar. I order a nightcap, pay for it, and turn to watch her. From this vantage I see her finish her meal. Such craving. Such passion. Such an animal.
She finishes her meal, but then she begins to suck on the bones. It is truly mesmerizing. After she finally places them aside, she continues to sit there as if lost in a cloud of thought while finishing her glass of tea. She glances around and looks directly at me, at the bar where I sit. I look away, I hope in time, so that she won't catch me staring.
Some minutes later, during my continuing anxiety, she slides gracefully onto the barstool beside me. I feel the breath leave my lungs. I wonder if she hears the release.
I sit very stiffly, and I bring my drink to my mouth.
From the edge of my eye I see her turn to me.
She speaks. "Will you buy me a drink?"
Somehow, around the frog in my throat, I say, "of course."
"Good, then I'll have a cosmopolitan."
"Of course," Then I look at her small but well shaped tits, which are hardly hidden by the green cloth covering them. Somehow I find my voice, "What is a cosmopolitan?"
She smiles at me. "Two parts vodka, one part cointreau, and two parts cranberry juice. Then you squeeze in some lemon or lime, and then stir, in my case, or shake in others, with ice, and then strain the mixture into a chilled martini glass. Garnish with a slice of lemon or lime as you choose a good vodka, please."
The bartender has been listening to her spiel and when I nod, and tell him, "choose a good vodka, please."
The man turns away to mix it. She doesn't seem to have anything further to say right now, and I couldn't speak if I had to. What the hell does she want of me?
The bartender brings her drink and I pay him. I pick up my drink again.
"A toast I offer to the buyer tonight," her soft voice is husky and I turn to her and lift my glass to hers. We clink and as I put a smile on my face, I think it's a smile, I watch her sip. I take a swallow.
Somehow it seems all right to look at her now so I do, I look at her more closely, and like her looks even more.
She turns to me, "we've been running into each other for months now."
"Yes," I croak. "We have," a little clearer.
"I've noticed you are almost staring at me."
"You always wear green." Wow, four words I get out.
Laughter, God, I made her laugh. I look up, just for a moment.
"Yes, I do. Do you mind?"
"No, it fits you." I look at her luscious lips, surrounded by that auburn hair, wondering if her bush is that color too but knowing that I'd never get to find out.
"The dress, I should hope so."
"No, well, yes, but I meant the color fits you, seems right for you - somehow.
"Ah." An almost a secretive smile.
She sips at her cosmopolitan again. Then she looks up at me again, causing me to drop my eyes to her breasts, although I can't see them at the moment.
"You must like me a lot."
I couldn't believe my ears. How could she be saying this to me? How could she know?
"Yes," I say straightening my tie. Not knowing what to say, I play with the ice in my drink.
"Have you liked me all this time, when we were just seeing each other across rooms?" she asks.
"What?" I blurted it. What was she saying?
"You're so quiet," she continued. "I notice that your eyes never meet mine tonight."
"Shy," I confess.
"Mmm," she murmurs thoughtfully. "Do you want to fuck me?"
What did she say? Did she ask if I wanted to fuck her?